


The Hood

by bonniepatsy



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Little Red Riding Hood - All Media Types, Robin Hood - All Media Types, Robin of Sherwood, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Addiction, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cat Burglars, Ensamble - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, New York City, Organized Crime, Red Riding Hood Elements, Slow Burn, UST, Vigilantism, casefile, fem!Robin Hood, nypd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:11:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3537452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonniepatsy/pseuds/bonniepatsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern day twist on the classical tale of Robin Hood. After years underground, Police Detective Marion Jack Maider coaxes his high school sweetheart Jane Maddicott out of hiding to take up her alias Little Red Robbing Hood to steal evidence against well loved retired House of Representative Guy Gisborne, who is the number one suspect in The Bloody Horse serial killer case. Although after losing her parents to the Twin Towers and years in Afghanistan, Ex- Party Girl Jane's a changed woman and her behavioral addiction to crime has become reckless and dangerous. Has Detective Maider awoken a wolf in sheep's clothing? What will happen when the Merry Men get back together and Mayor deLion and Police Chief Nottingham make it their personal quest to take them down? Will Gisborne finally get locked behind bars?<br/>Rating may go up with later chapters, warnings will be added as the story unfolds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

New York City, home to 8.4 million Americans. Manhattan, The Bronx, Staten Island, Queens and Brooklyn. The most linguistically diverse city in the world, with over 800 spoken languages. 300 square miles of industry, immigrants, and injustice. And he had the brass to show up alone.

Detective Maider sat in his unmarked patrol car, his hands nervously flexing on the steering wheel. This was too close. This was against the law. He had kept his mouth shut until now, but this was worse than his silence. He looked over at the Sherwood Pub, it’s darkened windows a perfect mask for under the table crime. She was in there.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

He regarded himself in the rearview mirror. He’d worn plain clothes so she wasn’t seen with a cop, something he now regretted. He was going into battle with no armor on. He smoothed his eyebrows, checked his teeth and got out of the car. Across the street, a couple of teenagers leered and catcalled him. He was a bit overdressed for the area, but he walked as confidently as he could along the sidewalk, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

The Sherwood Pub customers were … scary people. He was wrong to stereotype, he knew it, but a group of motorcycle enthusiasts were definitely eyeing him over their whiskeys in the corner. It was emptier than he thought it would be, small groups and loners mostly. The bartender was polishing a glass, scanning him with careful suspicion. He leaned over and whispered something to someone at the bar and changed the channel on the tv from horse racing to soccer.

The Detective looked around and saw no tell-tale red hair anywhere, but he knew she would be here soon. His sources told him that everyday around 5, she came in and didn't leave until closing. He took a seat and checked his watch. 5:20PM.

“Waiting for someone?” the bartender asked. He was a big man, with a rounded belly, squinty eyes and a scraggly beard.

“I guess so.” Maider said easily, looking at the selection behind the counter. “Can I get a scotch with ice?”

The bartender shrugged and started making the drink. “You from out of town?” he asked congenially. He had the air of someone at ease, but Maider knew that the bartender was fishing for information.

“Why do you ask?” Maider smiled politely. The bartender shrugged again.

“Don’t get more than regulars in a place like this.” he chuckled. Maider chuckled with him.

“I actually grew up a couple streets over,” Maider smiled, and he saw out of the corner of his eye the person who the bartender whispered to when he first came in stiffen subtly in his chair. He was a small in stature hipster type, with lanky layered plaid and a brimmed beanie that hid his face in shadow. “I’m on a business trip and thought I’d stop by and see my old haunts.” None of this was an outright lie. The best lie is rooted in truth, he did grow up a couple streets over, waaaay over and he was here on business, not official business but still.

“Word to the wise,” the bartender said sagely, “don’t park on the street.” he nodded out the window. Sure enough, someone was obviously preparing himself to steal his car across the street.

“I’ll be right back,” Maider said softly. He got up and started for the door.

“There’s a few empty spaces out back you can use.” The bartender called after him. Maider waved as he left. After staring down the potential car thief, the guy split and Maiden drove his car up the dark space between the buildings and parked beside the trash bin.

Over the next hour on his stool at the bar, he waited, small-talking with the bartender whom he learned was named Gregg until Gregg hit him with, “I think you got stood up. So who is she? A girlfriend?”

“Hmm? Who?” Maider feigned ignorance.

“Come on, you’re fidgeting like a squirrel, keep tugging at your shirt, checking your reflection in the mirror behind the bar…?” Gregg smiled “Or boyfriend, you know, no assumptions here.” Maider laughed and paused.

“Ex-girlfriend.” he sighed.

“Ahh, sorry bud.” Gregg said, absently cleaning another glass. The guy in the beanie lit a cigarette. “Why here, why not someplace, I don’t know, classier? No offense but, it looks like you got the money.” Maider decided he liked Gregg, he was frank and open once you got to know him.

“She likes it here.” Maider shrugged.

“Is she a regular?” Gregg asked surprised. Maider glanced at the guy in the beanie. He knew that the man had been listening, maybe casually, maybe not, but he still didn’t want to take that chance. Gregg picked up on it. “Ahh, sorry. Don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.” Maider said. He snatched a napkin out of the dispenser and wrote ‘Yes.’ He tried to play his pause for sadness over an ex-girlfriend. “I just miss her.” but he wrote ‘I need her help.’

“Everybody has an old lady they never got over.” Gregg looked around and wrote. ‘Whats her name?’

“She was one in a million.” Maider sighed dreamily. ‘No name. Red hair, blue eyes, pretty, veteran, late 20s.’ Greggs face stiffened. It was then that beanie guy accidently knocked over his drink, sending the beer coasting down the table. Maider lept back, the beer splashing down his front, Beanie guy lept to his feet and mopped the beer up, in the process, using the code napkin and all the rest of them.

“Sorry man.” he said, throwing a wad of clean napkins at Maider.

“It’s okay,” Maider said suspiciously, dabbing at his shirt, “it wasn’t on purpose.” Although he really thought it was.

“Sorry Gregg, I’ll get some more napkins from the back.” Beanie said, and disappeared.

Gregg sighed. “That there’s a strange one.”

“I think I’m going to change my shirt.” Maider said, pulling the drenched fabric off his skin. “Be right back.”

“Alright.” Gregg grunted, pulling out the ice bucket and hosing the beer off with the tap.

Maider went around back, grumbling to himself, thinking he’d just finish his drink and leave at this point. Maybe she was busy, maybe something came up, either way, it was a quarter to 7 and no Jane.

He was about to round the corner when a scratching noise made him stop. He pressed his back against the brick wall and glanced hesitantly around the bend. Beanie was crouched on the passenger side of his car, picking the lock. The guy reached into his pocket and took out a screw driver, momentarily exposing his gun tucked down the back of his pants. Maider's adrenaline leaked into his veins, he slowly got on one knee and got his own gun from his ankle holster. A loose rock crunched quietly under his foot, Beanie froze and looked around. The way he held himself… like a predator, it was unnerving. He was obviously dangerous, his behavior and the practiced way he checked over his shoulder... car theft was low on his list of crimes. Maider held his breath, after a moment or two, Beanie returned to his lock picking.

Good luck, he thought, you can’t just pick a police car lo-. Beanie opened the passenger side door softly. Why would he go in through the passenger side? Car stealers usually want to be on the driver’s side right? He tip toed to the nearest car and crouched below the windows. He could still hear Beanie picking a lock, his glove compartment?

Maider went around trunk of the car closest to Beanie, bracing himself. He looked around the corner. Beanie had one foot on the ground, balancing himself as he expertly prodded at the glove compartment locking device. Maider waited, curious. That was the newest lock, uncrackable so far. Within a minute the lock popped open, and Beanie dove in, searching feverishly for something. Maider got up cautiously, creeping over, his gun poised. Beanie found what he was looking for, a tupperware container with Maiders information in it. He opened Maider's police badge and looked at it intently.

“Shhhit.” Beanie said, throwing the plastic box backing to the glove compartment and leaned back into the chair, defeated, massaging his forehead.

“NYPD.” Maider said firmly. Beanie froze. “Hands above your head.” Beanie raised his hands slowly.

“I don’t want trouble,” Beanie rasped.

“Get out of the car. Keep your hands where I can see them.” Maider continued as if he hadn’t heard him.

“It was an accident, I didn’t know it was a cop car.” Beanie said in his gravelly voice, getting out of the car cautiously. He stood with his back to Maider.

“I think you did. Turn around slowly.” Maider said threateningly. Beanie didn’t move. “Turn around!” Maider saw him twitch, and knew a second before it happened. “Don’t you d-” but Beanie ran for it, sprinting through the back entrance of the pub. Maider followed in hot pursuit.

“Police! Stop!” he shouted. The people in the kitchen froze, Beanie darted through them, clanging into the hanging pots. “Don’t move!” he said as Beanie disappeared out the door. Maider darted out into the Pub, leapt across the floor and tackled Beanie to the ground.

“When the NYPD” Maider panted, wrestling with the handcuffs “asks you to stop. You stop.”

The customers watched, on edge, wondering whether or not to stay out of it while Beanie struggled. Gregg ran out from behind the bar.

“You’re crushing her!” Gregg thundered, hoisting Maider off the convict.

“Her?” Maider shouted incredulously. Sure enough, Beanie’s beanie fell off in the struggle and out tumbled a mass of trademark strawberry blonde hair.

***

Gregg poured them both a drink at their secluded corner table, nervously looking between them. Jane lit up, looking perfectly at ease in her handcuffs with a handsome black eye blooming across her face.

“Why did you run?” Maider fumed. Jane sucked the smoke into her lungs and blew out, satisfied.

“I’m back for three years and you haven’t contacted me at all. Then you make Detective and show up undercover at _my_ bar, but didn’t want anyone to know you were looking for me? Obviously you weren’t looking to reconnect.” she blew smoke in his face. “What do you want from me?”

“Why are you dressed like that?” he said, frustratedly. He didn’t want to address why he was there so quickly.

“Some asswipe has been following me for a couple days, had to shake him.” she glared at him suspiciously. “At least I know why now. He wasn’t very subtle.”

“He’s new.” Maider said.

“What I’m not even worth a real cop now? You have to send some newbie beat cop? He wore Abercrombie and Fitch to Brooklyn, what is he 19?” She grinned around her cigarette. Maider found himself smiling too, unable to resist. “Poor boy,” she continued, “didn’t even stand a chance. Whats wrong with you Mary?”

“Oh really, Mary?” he chuckled, “That’s what you’re going with? I am a Police Detective, you know, I did graduate top of my class. Jack or MJ maybe, but no one calls me Mary anymore.”  Suddenly, it was just as it was before. Before everything. Before life happened.

“Oh sorry,” she snorted and then the mood shifted, she looked slightly pinched. Her eyes sort of chilled, but the rest of her face laughed with ease along with him until it’s natural end. “So,” she said, fixing him with a hard gaze, “what does Detective Marion Jack Maider want with the likes of me?”

The likes of me. The phrase echoed in his head. When did she become ‘the likes of me’? He remembered her perfectly. How could he not? She was wild and spirited, full of life. She challenged him. She made him laugh. And she broke his heart. It was then that the Detective realized what was keeping him in the car earlier. He wasn’t afraid of breaking the law. He was afraid of seeing her.

The last time she ever looked at him, she wasn’t quite Jane. Her beautiful curly flyaway strawberry blonde hair had been tamed. Her lips, always teasing a smile at the corners, were frozen and expressionless. Her blue eyes danced with a hollow madness as she held her brothers hand, who silently let tears fall softly down his grief stricken face. Who was she now?

Did he want to see her like this?

Did she want him to see her like this?

Drunk at a sleazy bar with no one in the world? But there she was, weathered and aged way past … what was she, 27? 28? In hand cuffs he’d put on her, talking to him like no time had past, and she was almost a stranger. He looked sadly at her. She really had changed. Her hair was limp, her clothes stained, she’d lost a lot of weight, her nails were bitten, so were her lips, she had deep circles under her eyes, and her attitude had changed from charming to bitter and arrogant. But when she lit another cigarette it was almost identical to the way she had when they were teens.

“I need your help.” Maider sighed and then added hesitantly, “Well, not _your_ help.”

Jane looked at the table blankly, lifted her drink, drank until the glass was empty and set it back down with a small clang. “I don’t do that anymore.” she said quietly.

“I understand that, but would you at least hear me out?” he said hurriedly. She didn’t look at him, and she didn’t say anything. He decided that he should continue.

“I have a case -”

“I’d be working for the police?” she said, a hint of her smile at the edge of her lips. She already had him back tracking and he’d barely started.

“No, you’d be a anonymous tipper at best.” he said calmly.

“Anonymous tippers don’t get paid.” she clarified.

“Like you need the money.” he bit his lip, regretting his words. He meant it as a joke.

“Right,” she laughed humorlessly, “I forgot my inheritance made the front page.”

She changed the bloody napkin hanging out of her nose for a clean one. He really had slammed her really hard into the ground. Along with his guilt, he felt a strange and unwelcome twinge of satisfaction. He was angry at her for changing so much. He wanted to grab her, to shake her and shout in her face ‘This isn’t you! Snap out of it!’. But it was her, now. And he’s just have to get used to it.

“You look different, I didn't recognize you at first. That’s why I broke into your car.” she paused and smiled sarcastically, “I mean I knew you were a cop, I could smell cop on you.”

“You didn’t seem all that pleased to see me.” he teased.

"Yeah, well you didn’t seem all that pleased to see me either.” she sassed, holding up the bloody napkin.

“I apologized.” he mumbled, playing with the lip of his glass.

“Detectives don’t blush, man up.” she smirked, signaling to Gregg for another drink.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” he asked cautiously. He’s seen her have at least four drinks of hard liquor at the bar, if not more, and another three beers since he tackled her.

 

“Nope.” she said, nodding thankfully at Gregg when he left her a full glass. After a pause, Maider leaned forward, trying to engage her in the conversation.

“I need evidence.” he said seriously.

“Against?” she asked, arching her eyebrow.

“Guy Gisborne” he replied stonily. Jane laughed half heartedly, but faltered.

“What, you’re serious?” she said warily. He nodded gravely. She let out a shaky giggle, running her fingers through her hair. He took a folded piece of newspaper from his pocket. On it was the photograph of a suave, fit middle aged man in a suit cutting a ribbon in front of a building, smiling a winning smile. He placed it on the table in front of her.

“He’s suspected of murder, human trafficking, drug trafficking, rape, arson, -”

“I know who he is.” she barked, her knuckles whitening in the glass. She stared at the photo, her eyes boring into it. Maider cleared his throat.

“He’s also a retired army captain, a retired house of representative, and a man of wealth, loved by a lot of people.” he muttered.

I know who he is,” she repeated coldly.

“We think he’s The Bloody Horse.” Maider said quietly. Jane scrutinized him.

“The serial killer?” she hissed, leaning in angrily.

“I also came here as a warning-”

“There’s been no word on The Bloody Horse in eight years.” she sneered, drinking her beer.

“Well there's been no word on Little Red Robbing Hood in five.” he breathed staring her down.

 

She grinned cockily, “Little Red Robbing Hood” she whispered. “I missed hearing that.” Maider glared at her.

“This is serious. The Bloody Horse targets middle to upper class white women in their late 20s with red hair. Last week there was a murder with his M.O., another body was found last night. He’s going to kill one more before he goes back underground.”

“By underground, you mean all over _above_ ground with leaked photos to five different magazines with a time and date of the vacation he was on or the wedding he attended that will give him an air tight alibi.”

“You guessed it.” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Can’t help you.” she said, flicking the photo back across the table to him.

“What?” he snapped.

“I have a 100% success rate. My clients and my reputation depend on that.” she said in a level voice. “I have an 100% success rate because I only take cases I know I can win.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Winning.”

They stared each other down.

No she was not the girl he once knew. She never cared if she won, it was the thrill of it she liked. She cared about her work, she cared about the people she was helping, she cared about taking the corrupt down a peg. She cared about injustice.

He had his chance five years ago to bring her in. Five years ago, and then she stopped.

Little Red Robbing Hood went quiet, went underground, her file was packed in a dusty box in the basement of his department. Five years ago, when the twin towers went down. Five years ago, when she went to Afghanistan. He remembered the rumors clearly, The Hood died in the collapse, she decided the city was too dangerous and split, she worked for the terrorists, she’s no longer our problem. But he knew, he knew who Little Red Robbing Hood really was.

She was just Jane. A bored girl with too much money, and now? Now instead of random acts of anarchy…

He knew her parents were in the building. He knew when she didn’t return his calls. He knew when he went to the funeral and she was there with her brother, the icy fire in her eyes, not a tear, not a sniffle. He knew that she now had a new obsession, a case of international proportions. So she and her brother signed up for the Army. And only she came home.

“Winning,” he repeated, looking at her with disgust. “is that what drives you?” He took out two more photos, dead broken women with blank staring eyes, and slapped them down in front of her. He almost felt bad, watching the blood drain out of Jane’s face, watching her cold calculated face freeze, the mad glint in her eyes flare up and extinguish like she was stomping it out herself. Almost. “These women didn’t win, these women will be buried before their time, their families and friends will never recover and one more will follow. It’s not too late for that girl to win. All I need is a shred of proof, something, anything.” she remained silent. His anger started to seep into his voice. “He doesn’t slip up Jane, you’re the only one who can find something, and then you can go back into hiding with your boring boozy life.”

She blinked, he knew that stung, that may have been too far. She breathed through her mouth, and didn’t look at him or the photographs.

“He needs to be stopped.” he urged, willing her to budge even an inch. The silence dragged on. She didn’t move for a long time, but then… she reached for her drink. He close his eyes, defeated.

“Fine,” he snapped, standing and taking off her cuffs with unnecessary roughness, “it was a long shot anyway.” He collected the photographs, finished his drink in one shot and slapped down some bills and a tip. He turned to leave, but hesitated.

She was Jane, broken, angry, but Jane. His heart softened. With his back to her, he sighed and said. “It was good to see you, Jane.”

He left and Jane stared at her drink as if hoping to find the answers in it’s brown watery depths.

 **  
** “You too, Mary.”


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone could see Maider was in foul spirit when he entered the police station the next morning. The dark circles under his eyes were almost as dark as his mood. He got to his desk to see a fresh cup of coffee set up and waiting for him. Officer Fitzgerald sat down next to him looking eager. Jane’s voice came unwelcome into his head, ‘He wore Abercrombie and Fitch to Brooklyn, what is he 19?’ , he grinned to himself. Officer Fitzgerald was young alright, not that young but his face hadn’t hit that second wave of puberty yet. His boyish behavior didn’t help but Maider knew Fitz was going to rise through the ranks quickly, he was an excellent cop.

“So Maider, what happened? What she say?” Fitz asked excitedly, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Nothing, I spooked her.” Maider said, feeling like it was better to not say. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine, sore, my arm is covered in bruises, but nevermind. She didn’t seem easily spookable.” Fitz pondered aloud. Maider changed the subject.

“Thanks for the coffee.” he smiled, lifting it in sudo-cheers.

“No problem, coffee shop is on my way.” he said, still in thought.

“Don’t let the others hear that.” Maider grinned, “You’ll be taking the department’s orders like a delivery barista before you know what hit you.”

“You spooked her?” Fitz repeated, looking confused. “You didn’t speak to her at all.”

“I said I spooked her Fitz, yeesh. Whats with the third degree?” Maider teased, sipping his coffee.

“It’s just against her profile, you know.” Fitz leaned over and opened his brief case leaning against the chair. “I would have thought she’d go deeper into hiding.” He took out a copy of a police file. “At least, you know, her unofficial one.” he whispered opening one up labeled ‘Jane Maddicott - L.L.R.H.’

“You did a background check on her?” Maider hissed, leaning in.

“You asked me to tail her, I wanted to know why.” he whispered evasively. Maider was about to respond when something Fitz said bothered him.

“What does that mean? You thought she’s go deeper into hiding?” he asked intently.

“Well she was on the front page this morning.” Fitz shrugged, producing todays paper. Maider ripped it out of his hands. Big bold letters across the top read: ‘ _Bombshell Ex-Party Girl Gisborne's New Squeeze?_ ’ and underneath a large color photo of Guy Gisborne with Jane on his arm leaving a large fancy party, all smiles, looking like they’re having the time of their lives. Maider… he didn’t know what he felt. Incredulous? Furious? Contemptuous? Almost thrilled?

The story started at the bottom. _‘Although out of the public eye for years, Jane Maddicott made a surprise comeback at Keith Richard’s 5th Avenue House Party last night. Looks like ladiesman Guy Gisborne couldn’t resist that cheeky trademark smile because they were seen leaving together after the party was broken up by the police. They were seen afterwards enjoying a romantic dinner together at… (See More P.4)_

Maider whipped open the paper, reading intently. _‘Eleven Madison Park. They left together and even if we cannot say what happens behind closed doors, Maddicott was seen leaving his house early this morning wearing Gisborne’s clothes. (below left)’_ There was Jane, carrying her heels, calm as you please, dressed in an over sized men's tee-shirt displaying Gisborne’s faded election slogan and logo, and sweat pants way too large for her. _‘Although this is not the first in Maddicotts long list of walk-of-shames, it is the first with a follow up brunch. Thats right, notorious heartbreaker Guy Gisborne arrived at Maddicott’s Manhattan apartment and took her out for breakfast in Mackay’s Diner. (below right)’_ Another photo, blurry through a window, the two laughing over pancakes in a mom and pop type diner. _‘Hardly a place of caliber, perhaps they wanted a secluded place to escape the paparazzi? Perhaps they couldn’t resist the pancakes? Either way it’s obvious Maddicott has got him wrapped around her delicate little finger. Not a far cry from her days of naughty behavior and endearing theatrics, Gisborne may be able to tame this wild-’_

Maider couldn’t read anymore, he snapped the paper shut with anger. Fitz watched him intently, gauging his reaction. He was practically vibrating with anticipation. Maider immediately became suspicious that he had been played.

“Get the reaction you wanted?” Maider asked caustically. Fitz ignored him.

“It’s her isn’t it? You want her to steal something for The Bloody Horse case.” his smile pushing the limits of his face.

“How do you know Gisborne is a suspect in The Bloody Horse case? Thats confidential information Officer Fitzgerald.” he hissed quietly.

“You’re not the only one I bring coffee to.” Fitz smirked.”So, I’m right, aren’t I? But of course you won't tell me because that’s illegal. Could you like… nod maybe?”

Maider stared him down.

“I get it, classified.” Fitz said, nodding sagely.

“This isn’t the CIA Fitz, words like classified aren’t really used.” Maider sighed, he sat back in his chair, massaging his temples. Fitz was poised at the edge of his seat, like a puppy waiting for a treat. He knew what came next. Maider glared amusedly at him.

“Fitz?” he said nonchalantly.

“Yeah?” Fitz said, mimicking his tone.

“I need your help.” Maider said. Fitz beamed.

“I know.”

“Now, this isn’t just some under the table stuff.” he whispered, impressing the gravity of the situation on the young cop. “You could lose your job if I get caught, heck you could go to jail.”

“I got it, no problem I already talked to my mom about it.” Fitz said eagerly.

“You talked to your mom about this?” Maider asked hiding a smirk.

“She thinks bringing down someone as bad as Gisborne is worth my career.” he shrugged.

“We’re dealing with criminals.”

“Is someone a criminal if they’ve never been caught doing crime?” Fitz teased.

“Yes” Maider said seriously, Fitz grin faded, “This isn’t a tree in the forest thing. It does make a sound if no one hears it, Fitz.”

“Right, gotcha, I could be roomies with Bubba - I’ll take the risk.” he said calmly.

“This is serious.” Maider said after a moment. Fitz didn’t look at all hesitant, he wasn’t really taking it in. He liked it, the thrill of doing something dangerous. He was like Jane.

“Alright,” Maider murmured, “I need her address and her num-” Fitz whipped out a piece of paper with a full profile, full name, address, phone number, height, weight, and abbreviated history of Jane Maddicott. “-bur. Did you do this last night?”

“Two days ago. Google is a wonderful thing.” Fitz said happily.

“Want to take a walk?” Maider said, eyebrows raised.

“I would love to take a walk.” Fitz smiled, immediately taking the hint.

It took 30 minutes to walk to Maider’s apartment. Fitz chatted happily about anything that popped into his head while Maider listened amused. He hadn't been crushed by the weight of the job yet, he was still so optimistic and Maider enjoyed his company. He went on and on about tv shows, friends from the academy, his mom (who Maider envisioned to be an extreme version Mrs. Weasley) and a girl he was seeing.

Maider's apartment was in a tall, shabby brick building, but it was the best he could get for the price and location. He unlocked the door and proceeded up six flights of stairs, with a gasping Fitz in tow.

“This place... doesn’t have… an elevator?” Fitz huffed leaning against the hall wall.

“There was, it broke a couple years ago and no one complained to the landlord so it was closed for a year, rusted over and now it needs to be replaced. No one wants to foot the bill and the tenants are mostly college kids and blue collar families. All in shape.” Maider smiled as Fitz wiped his brow, “Whats-a-matter? Didn’t you just tell me you were a track star in high school?”

“Five years ago.” Fitz panted, “look at you, you're not even sweating. Stop giggling.”

Maider couldn’t help it. He wrestled with the key and popped open the door. They went in and as he was closing the door, the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He spun around, his gun at the ready.

“Maider-”

“Shh!” Maider said, throwing his arm in front of the kid. He raised his finger to his lips and pointed around the corner.

Fitz looked around nervously, taking out his gun as well. They inched through the living room towards the kitchen. They heard a faint pop, and looked curiously at eachother.

“Yellowtail?” came a voice that Maider instantly recognized. He let out an angry sigh. “Really Jack? What does that say about you?”

“Put your gun down” he said to Fitz and entering the kitchen. “I know this guy.”

Leaning against _his_ kitchen table, sipping down _his_ wine and petting _his_ dog was the most immense man he’s ever met. A gentle giant, Jane’s best friend, Juanito Ramirez. But at the moment he looked menacing and formidable.

“You know this guy?” Fitz whispered nervously, holstering his gun.

“Yeah I know him,” Maider snatched away the wine bottle. “Breaking and entering is a crime you know.”

“You need to break first for it to be breaking and entering.” Juan said, sitting down at the table. “A spare key under a rock only works if you're not on the sixth floor, Jack.” Fitz bit his lip, hiding a smirk. Maider glared at him.

“Why are you here?” Maider asked exasperatedly. Juan’s eyes subtly flicked to Fitz. Fitz expression dawned.

“Hey!” he said angrily “You’re that guy!” Juan raised his eyebrows, surprised. “That guy, the guy who started the bar fight two nights ago at Sherwood’s Pub. My entire left arm is covered in bruises thanks to you! No don’t give me that look, I lost a criminal I was chasing ‘cause of you! You interrupted a police investigation with your antics.”

“Fitz,” Maider interrupted.

“What?” Fitz spat.

“Shut up.”

“So it’s true,” Juan smiled to himself, “Jane thought she was going crazy. So you know then?”

“Know what?” Fitz sneered.

“He knows, or at least he’s not going to tell anybody.” Maider shrugged, leaning against the fridge.

“Wait are you an accomplice?” Fitz asked excitedly, all previous ill mood evaporating. He gasped loudly, “You’re the Wolf! The Wolf! The giant guy that was Hood’s accomplice! Oh sir, it is an honor to meet you!” Fitz stuck out his hand enthusiastically. After a pause, Juan shook it skeptically.

“My friends call me Lil’ Juan.” he said, “This handshake is in no way an admission to any and all crime supposedly committed by the outlaw known as The Wolf.”

“Don’t worry, 'Secret' is my middle name.” Fitz oozed. Juan looked over at Maider who rolled his eyes.

“Should cops be such fans of criminals?” Juan smirked.

“I wrote a paper on you at The Academy,” Fitz grinned, “well, it was on Little Red Robbing Hood, but you got at least 3 pages. Your exposure on The Bishop’s case was amazing! And the discreditation by tracing his offshore credit card to a gay strip club and dismantling his crew using homophobia?” Fitz mimed ‘mind-blown’, “Classic!” he sang. “Oh! And then using the the offshore account to donate all that money to the LGBTQ Youth Help Center? Nice touch man.”

“Wow, you really did your research.” Juan said a little self consciously.

“Yeah, yeah he’s a real up and comer, now why are you here, Juan?” Maider said aggressively, placing his hands on the kitchen table. Juan scrutinized him, as if sizing him up.

“You really don’t know?” Juan whispered. He leaned forward, invading Maider’s personal space. “Are you really that naive or are you just stupid?”

“Hey,” Fitz piped up, “that's a little unnecessary isn't it?”

“You knew she couldn’t resist,” Juan hissed, “and you still asked. And now, she’s sleeping with a potential serial killer.” Maider felt the heat of shame creep up his neck.

“She’s a big girl, she can make her own choices.” Maider sneered.

“How dare you.” Juan murmured dangerously. “How dare you try to justify what you’ve done. What are you going to do? Wait for her to slip up and then throw her in jail, or are you just going to wait until you have to solve her murder with a promotion in tow? She was safe you know. She was out of the game, and you, you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? ”

“She wasn’t happy and you know it.” Maider barked.

“She’s a danger to herself, she always has been, and she could never refuse you. You knew that! You knew if you asked she’d do it.” Juan said, his lip curling. “Make excuses all you want, but we both know you shouldn’t have asked her.”

“A girl’s life is at stake!” Maider shouted.Juan got up suddenly, his chair screeching against the linoleum.

“Well now two girl’s lives are at stake!” Juan slammed his fist down on the table. Silence followed, Fitz drummed his fingers awkwardly on his legs. Juan collected himself, sweeping his shoulder length hair away from his face. “If anything happens to her, it’ll be your fault. She’s not the Hood anymore. She can’t do it.”

There was a knock at the door.

 


End file.
